


a place you won't grow cold

by parcequelle



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 The Great Wizard's Visit, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parcequelle/pseuds/parcequelle
Summary: Tonight, all Hecate wants to do is go to Ada.





	a place you won't grow cold

**Author's Note:**

> Here is yet another fic set post-The Great Wizard's Visit, because apparently I can't let this episode go!

That evening, the girls are impossible to quiet down without the aid of several sharp looks, several sharp words, and four detentions spread across three year groups. Hecate can sympathise, of course; after the unrest of this day, of Agatha and the Great Wizard and the near-disastrous broomstick display, she has required more discipline than usual to force her own posture into rigidity, to perform her nightly duties with unbending authority, to keep her thoughts from drifting to Ada at every spare moment. She knows the pupils are only feeding off and amplifying one another’s energy, that adrenaline soars and crashes and makes children silly if left unchecked, and that it is her responsibility to reinstate some semblance of order to the form before lights out. That it is her responsibility to check them.

She ignores the put-out nastiness of the yellow-corridor first years (‘I bet she _wanted_ Agatha to take over as headmistress – she wasn’t even at the broomstick display, was she?’) and sweeps up the stairs to check on Mildred Hubble. Expecting to find her up to her usual mischief, Hecate is pleasantly surprised to open the door to a quiet room, to the sight of Mildred sitting up in bed with her potions textbook and her ridiculous cat balanced together on her lap. The look of concentration on her face makes Hecate soften, a little; reminds her of the fact that Mildred could have been seriously injured, today, and for once through no fault of her own. 

Voice gentler than usual, Hecate says, ‘It’s time to go to sleep, Mildred. Your study will wait.’

‘Yes, Miss Hardbroom,’ Mildred says obediently, automatically, closing the book and setting it aside.

When she doesn’t leave right away, Mildred starts to shift worriedly, and Hecate resists the urge to roll her eyes. She watches Mildred a moment before she says, ‘You knew that Miss Cackle had been replaced.’

She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but Mildred hears it as one anyway, nods. ‘She – well, Agatha, really – she couldn’t do magic. When she tried. And she was…’ Mildred hesitates, looking awkward.

‘Was what?’

‘She was meaner than Miss Cackle,’ she finally says. ‘She had this expression like Agatha. Then she couldn’t do magic on top of that, and I knew.’

Hecate appraises her, this girl with her messy plaits and her nervous expression and her ability to see things others don’t, and says, ‘Very good.’

Mildred blinks in surprise, gobs like a fish for a few seconds. ‘Um… I, um… thank you, Miss Hardbroom, I—’

‘Goodnight, Miss Hubble,’ Hecate says, to forestall the very real danger of having to listen to her bumbling for another fifteen minutes, and turns to go. The door falls quietly closed behind her, clicks shut, seals her out in the draughty corridor alone.

Mildred’s junk room is the last stop on her evening rounds. On most nights, her next step would be to transfer back to her own rooms and read or mark for a couple of hours before going to sleep. On some nights, her next step would be to sit at her mirror and take care of her correspondence, or to head out on her broom to reinforce the castle’s protective wards and the long-term repair spell in the east tower. Tonight, she is interested in none of those things. Tonight, all she wants to do is go to Ada, to be in her presence and reassure herself that she really is all right. That she really is her Ada.

It is at Hecate’s own insistence that they rarely spend their evenings together, unless it is in Miss Cackle’s office under the guise of official business, where they can be interrupted by brazen students or staff at any time and never be forced to answer uncomfortable questions. She knows that Ada thinks her overly cautious, even paranoid, but Hecate knows the caution to be no less than what is required of her; her first years must feel secure in the knowledge that their form mistress can always be found in her rooms should they need her, even more so during the night than the day.

Hecate treasures the holidays for the freedom they give her to sit up with Ada late into the night, talking and drinking tea (or, occasionally, something stronger), unconcerned that they will be disturbed. She treasures the peace of being able to sit beside her or across from her, comfortably silent, with no expectation upon her other than that of being herself. She treasures especially those moments when Ada stands and stretches, murmurs, ‘It’s rather late – you could just stay here tonight,’ and the way her own heart always pulses with pleasure when she concedes, as though it wouldn’t be the work of a thought for Hecate to find herself in her own bed.

Even as she reasons that putting to rest her concerns about Ada will result in a better night’s sleep, and that that will result in enhanced concentration and tighter control in the classroom tomorrow, Hecate knows that she has already made up her mind. She charms her maglet to inform her of any girl’s presence at her own door, tucks it into the pocket of her dressing gown, and transfers.

In a typically alarming show of trust, Ada has long since charmed her rooms to allow Hecate instant access, but Hecate cannot abide an unannounced entrance and so always knocks. Now, when the door opens before her and she walks through it, she is struck with a sudden, irrational twist of concern that she will find Ada injured or missing, that Agatha will have somehow escaped her incarceration, that she will have—

But Ada is just reading in her armchair by the fire, glasses perched on the end of her nose, looking precisely as relaxed and content as she always does. Even as Hecate stands there, drinking in the precious, unremarkable sight of this woman, she feels her unease begin to unknot itself.

It is the surest sign of weakness that she has catered to her own insecurities by coming here, but Hecate finds she cannot regret it when Ada smiles up at her, eyes soft. ‘I had hoped you might stop by this evening,’ she says, closing and banishing her book. ‘Come and sit, won’t you?’

‘I mustn’t stay long,’ Hecate says, though it doesn’t stop her from folding herself into her usual armchair anyway. Her eyes meet Ada’s and catch, hold, and then Hecate asks, ‘You truly are all right?’

She doesn’t mean physically; she knows an entrancement spell correctly cast can do no lasting damage, and the spell had been Ada’s own, after all. Ada doesn’t speak of it often, but Hecate knows how deeply conflict with Agatha affects her, knows that she must fight to overcome her guilt and sorrow anew every time.

Ada smiles and reaches out, and Hecate takes her upturned hand, draws immediate reassurance from its softness and warmth. ‘You needn’t worry,’ Ada says lightly. ‘There’s nothing a good cup of tea and a biscuit can’t fix.’

‘Ada,’ Hecate huffs, ‘I do wish you would take things more seriously.’

‘I do,’ Ada says. ‘I do.’ Her eyes are full of open affection, warm in a way that nullifies the distance between them and envelopes Hecate’s heart from the outside in.

‘I never thought I’d hear myself say this,’ Hecate says wryly, ‘but magic bless Mildred Hubble and Maud Spellbody.’

Ada chuckles. ‘Quite.’ She twists her hand in Hecate’s until they are palm-to-palm and then links their fingers, slowly, the motion so full of care that it makes Hecate catch her breath. 

‘I’m so very sorry, Ada,’ she says. She strokes along Ada’s fingers with her own, revelling in the warm present feel of her, of her rightness and realness. Apologies do not form easily on Hecate Hardbroom’s lips, but this one, so deeply necessary and so deeply true, flows like water. ‘How I could have mistaken her for you, how I could have allowed her to fool me, I… I shall never forgive myself.’ It is difficult for her to speak through the wave of shame that overcomes her at the thought – how could she not have seen it? She, who knows Ada as well as she knows herself and who loves her far better?

‘Come now, let’s not be dramatic,’ Ada says, raising her eyebrows over her spectacles. ‘Agatha had obviously been planning this for some time, and we know she must have had… inside help of some kind. Or rather outside help.’

‘Gullet, no doubt,’ Hecate hisses, the words sour on her tongue. ‘If that sorry excuse for a witch truly is responsible, then she will be brought to justice. I swear by the Code.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Ada murmurs. Her tone of voice is rather concerning in its placidity, but Hecate decides, for the sake of harmony, not to push it. ‘From what I understand, she did an especially convincing job of impersonating me, this time around. No one could have known.’

‘A cold comfort,’ Hecate says, scowling, ‘as a single disaster-prone first year was able to see through her ruse before I was. You may be quick to forget my… insensibility, Ada, but I shall remember it forever.’ She grips Ada’s hand and says, ‘I promise you, with everything I am, that your sister shall never succeed in deceiving me again, and that she shall face grave consequences should she try.’

There is silence, and in her fear that she has spoken too openly, too harshly, it takes Hecate a moment to realise that the darkening look in Ada’s eyes is not judgement, not disapproval, but _intensity_ , and the kind of intensity that she usually associates with… Hecate presses her lips together as realisation hits, and Ada chuckles knowingly, rises and crosses to where Hecate is sitting, their fingers still linked. With her free hand, she reaches out to cup Hecate’s jaw, gentle and reverent, and Hecate cannot help but sigh her appreciation. There is a flirtatious smile dancing on Ada’s lips as she says, ‘Oh, dearest Hecate, one can’t blame a witch for being a little affected by your loyalty, now, can one?’

Hecate arches an eyebrow, angles her chin into Ada’s palm and replies, voice low, ‘I should certainly hope not.’

‘Come to bed,’ Ada murmurs. Her eyes are even darker, her voice full of promise to match it, and Hecate feels heat flush through her.

‘I mustn’t,’ she says, and can hear the twinge of her own regret as she does. ‘The girls must be able to depend on my being available to them at—’

‘—at all times,’ Ada finishes, fond. ‘Of course.’ Eyes twinkling, she says, ‘I would offer to put in a good word for you with the headmistress, but I know how stubborn you are about these things.’

‘You needn’t bother,’ Hecate drawls, smile tugging at her mouth before she can stop it. ‘I already have the headmistress’ ear.’

Ada leans in over her, braces herself on the arms of Hecate’s chair and says, right in her ear, ‘Oh, I’d say you have far more than that.’

After that, it is only sensible for Hecate to tilt her head and meet Ada halfway, kissing the mirth from her lips and easing her down until she is close, closer, on Hecate’s lap, her hands winding into Hecate’s hair and tugging gently, just as she likes it. Hecate moans, soft and involuntary, and when she feels Ada’s satisfied smile against her lips, draws back to glare at her. ‘You are wicked,’ she mutters, ‘in an entirely different way to your sister.’

Ada smiles smugly at her, the cat that got the cream, and doesn’t deny it.

Self-consciousness descending the way it always does after such an indulgence – and during term-time, no less – Hecate clears her throat. ‘I really must be getting back,’ she says, and though her voice is firm, the temptation to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Ada’s ear, to linger there, is too strong to resist. Ada responds by hooking her fingers into the fold of Hecate’s dressing gown at her collar, caressing the skin there, and Hecate grits her teeth. ‘Ada,’ she warns, ‘in most respectable witching circles, it is considered ill-mannered to start something you cannot finish.’

‘Not for want of trying,’ Ada says, chuckling, but she releases her with gentle hands and stands, drawing Hecate up along with her. ‘Before you go, darling, I wish to thank you.’

‘You shouldn’t.’ Hecate glowers, irritation flooding her at the memory of the day’s debacle. ‘I have done nothing that is worthy of your thanks.’

Ada raises her eyebrows. ‘The Great Wizard seemed to think otherwise when he told me of your defence of me.’

‘I only articulated what all of us know to be true,’ Hecate says stiffly. ‘And perhaps, if I had not spoken out as I did, we might have discovered your true location sooner.’

‘Or perhaps Agatha would have been granted control of the school before lunchtime and things would have turned out far worse for everyone. It simply won’t do for you to take the blame on this one, Hecate, as I know you’re so determined to do. It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Perhaps.’ Ada shakes her head, fondness and exasperation mingling in her eyes, and Hecate softens, says, ‘I will allow that Agatha played a rather significant role.’

‘That’s about the best I can hope for, I suppose.’ Ada sighs, but her eyes are still warm, and she squeezes Hecate’s hand as she does. ‘Now off with you,’ she murmurs, ‘before I tie you here and refuse to let you go.’

Hecate’s stomach dips with interest at that, but she only raises an eyebrow as she says, ‘Something to think about,’ and transfers away, abruptly, to the sound of Ada’s delighted chuckle.

In her own bed, alone between still-cool sheets, Hecate closes her eyes, waves off the lights, and very decidedly doesn’t think about it – it is a weekday in the middle of term, after all, and she has had a long and stress-filled day. But that doesn’t stop a voice inside her head from whispering, cheeky, unbidden, _Maybe in the holidays_.

It is somehow no great surprise that the voice sounds like Ada.


End file.
